Amidst the Lunar Darkness
by Seabit
Summary: Hades and Maria: two names, one love. This is their story.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: HadesxMaria drabble :D (may become a series of one-shots)**

**Maria and Bianca belong to Mr. Riordan.**

* * *

He thinks she looks like something carved out of marble, each feature of her face, her body and the smaller one she holds in her arms being a work of art in itself. They are defined and contrasted only by the palest watercolor light of the moon.

A pleasant breeze dances its way into the room, playing lightheartedly with the fabric of her white gown, and she laughs her charming laugh.

Maria di Angelo is, in all aspects, beautiful.

Hades shifts his position on the edge of the mattress; a creaking noise seemingly disrupting the night's quiet. He stands and walks over to where she is and peeks at the small figure she holds in her arms.

Maria turns and, upon seeing his surprised expression, smiles. "She's your daughter, too," is what she remarks, though not unkindly. Not impatient, but loving, as if his reluctant curiosity amused her.

Hades stretches his arms with almost an almost childish tremor; he receives his daughter in his arms for the first time.

She's tiny. Fragile, delicate, dainty, elegant, gracefulbeautiful_perfect_ and _he is overwhelmed_ by it all.

Another sound breaks the quiet, but this sound is not a noise. It is almost symphonic, unique in its unusualness- Hades' laugh, as rich and powerful as his domain.

And for the first time in over a century, happy.

He looks up from his daughter's face and into Maria's, who's leaning against the window frame, laughing herself. His face is lit by his excitement, besieged by emotion.

She waltzes to him and kisses their daughter's forehead and then his lips, warm as May, warm like they were the first time.

She pecks his lips one last time before taking and placing their daughter in her cradle, humming a lullaby softly.

Hades looks around then: the night is warm, and the two most beautiful beings he has ever seen are right before his eyes.

He sighs, although not tiredly, but contently.

Maria sits next to him and their hands entwine.

* * *

"You seem happy, my love," she intones later, when they're laying on the bed amidst the lunar darkness.

Hades raises their entwined hands and kisses her fingers lightly. "I am delighted," is what he says, but then he frowns, "but my brothers-"

"Hush," she exhales. "I already told you what I thought-"

"But, Maria-"

"Hades," her voice is firm, confident. "We are no puppets of fate."

He snorts in disbelief, but lets her continue.

"We are the masters of our own fate, controllers of our actions, the only ones who shape our path," she says. Then, almost as an afterthought, a "You will protect us, dear, I know you will," murmured.

And then nothing but the surrounding darkness (which he was so accustomed to) and the warmth of his hand in hers. Rhythmical breathing: Inhaling, exhaling.

He decides against responding, giving in to her. He gathers her into his arms and kisses her, thankful for her faith she has in him but also worried. He kisses her lips, her neck, the line of her jaw and shoulders.

And he holds her.

Hades holds on to Maria as if she were the last shred of happiness left for him.

(Perhaps she was).

* * *

That night, there are tears in his eyes when she whispers against his lips.

_I love you_.

* * *

**The ending´s up to you to interpret ;)**

**Comments? :)**


	2. Hand in Hand

**A/N: Another drabble :)**

**I don´t own Percy Jackson or The Heroes of Olympus**

* * *

_If someone believed me_  
_They would be_  
_As in love with you as I am_

**_-Angels,_****The XX**

* * *

They exit the bar together, walking the short distance to the old terrace that overlooks the city and leaning into the cold, rusted railing.

Music from the bar can be heard through the door that stands ajar, and Hades finds himself looking at her- his dance partner for the last seven dances.

Her hands and forearms are covered in the silk of her long white gloves, her neck adorned by pearls and her dark curls cascade over her shoulders. She glances at him and winks, almost coquettishly.

"What did you tell me your name was?" he asks her, feigning nonchalance. She smiles.

"I didn't tell you," she replies, and balances a glass of wine between two long fingers, takes a sip. "It's Maria."

"Maria, of course- it's a pleasure."

"The pleasure is mine," she replies politely. "May I ask your name?"

He shakes his head. "'What's in a name?'" he quotes, and can hear her complete the phrase with an, "'a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.'"

Hades nods, and an uncomfortable silence follows, dotted by a sigh, red lips taking small sips of even redder wine and, finally, the shifting of them both as they look down into the worn Italian streets.

"You know," she exhales, "being this far up, seeing the world below- it's almost enough to make you feel...-"

"Omnipotent?" he suggests, trying to hide his slight disgust. He is omnipotent, yes, but is not anything if not below the world.

Maria keeps her gazed fixed in the streets below them and into the lights that blink on and off, almost hypnotically so. She doesn't answer him, and his disgust resigns itself into confusion and maybe the tiniest bit of curiosity.

"Would you like to be immortal? Omnipotent? Infinite?" he blurts out, and is startled by how urgent his voice sounds.

And, of all things, Maria laughs, loud and clear.

She then shakes her head no, looks at him briefly before turning her face to the sky. "Do you know who Homer was?"

"The poet? I do," he says, and feels compelled to add, _a bit too well._ He doesn't, though, and lets her continue.

"Homer said," she explains, "that the gods envy us. They envy us because we're doomed." Maria closes her eyes, plays with the empty glass of wine. "Every moment is more precious because it could be our last."

A quiet, desolate sigh escapes Hades' lips, followed by a short silence. Then he says, "they do," with such heaviness that she opens her eyes and looks at him for what feels like the first time.

He smiles at her reassuringly, and she smiles back, not suspecting just how much her words had meant to him.

(In the years to come, he would look back and recall that very moment, would close his eyes and tilt his head back like she had done and replay her words time and time again. And he would also smile, although sadly.)

But as for now a new song is playing and the night is young- so he takes her gloved hands in his and asks her for one more dance. Her painted lips curl upwards at the same time their fingers entwine.

And so they enter back into the bar, hand in hand.


End file.
